


Beloved Brother

by caras_galadhon (Galadriel)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Brothers, Childhood, Family, Grief/Mourning, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Memories, Sibling Incest, Siblings, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-17
Updated: 2007-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel/pseuds/caras_galadhon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Boromir's chambers, Faramir remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beloved Brother

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashinae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinae/gifts).



> One good turn deserves another. [](http://ashinae.livejournal.com/profile)[**ashinae**](http://ashinae.livejournal.com/) did me a wonderful favour at my request (Yay, [_ReBoot/X-Files_ icon](http://userpic.livejournal.com/62947683/808924)! *mwah*), and so this fic is for her. Thank you too to [](http://savageseraph.livejournal.com/profile)[**savageseraph**](http://savageseraph.livejournal.com/), first among fishes, who pronounced it ready to swim.

Long after Boromir had passed into the Halls, long after he had joined the waiting throng and passed beyond the reach of Faramir's dreams, nightly Faramir still climbed the slick stone stairs, pushed open the heavy wooden door and tiptoed into the rooms as if he were an intruder. Even now, the chambers beyond belonged wholly to Boromir, Lord and Captain, brave soldier and beloved son.

_Even moreso beloved brother,_ but thinking that now as he crept across the floor, curled up in the cool bed, wrapping himself in the sheets that had once draped and moulded themselves to his brother's body, Faramir felt his cheeks flush, burn with blame. He came here under the onus of grief, but he would stay to nurse a darker stain on his soul.

Deep draughts of breath were all he needed to catch the scent that no longer lingered within these walls. His nose filled with the remembered spice of his brother, the fragrance come by honestly, through long nights pressed up against him, held close to Boromir's breast, cradled and coddled as if to soothe the wound left by their mother's passing, to frighten away nightmare-Wargs and dream-Orcs. Even as Faramir grew from child to man, Boromir did not turn him away. They were brothers, he said, and was not that kinship enough to bear out Faramir's craving for comfort?

He craved more than comfort, and yet he dared not speak such words to one of his own flesh, not even when his own body betrayed him under cover of darkness, aching for the man both within and beyond his reach.

Boromir said nothing of these incidents, never pulling away, yet never pressing closer, not like the cloth Faramir could so easily pluck up from the mattress, twine as a shroud around his straining erection, so easily freed from confining breeches.

He rocked against the sheets, urged on by memories of glances exchanged, touches given, smiles won, praise voiced; all easily turned, twisted to fuel the fantasy that drove Faramir's desires. No longer lord, soldier, son, nor brother, Boromir filled Faramir's senses, bloomed as lover, flourished in fancy as he never had in life. When Faramir strained his ears, it was Boromir's words, full and flush with lust, that stirred the air against his skin. It was the salt of his sweat that Faramir tasted on his tongue, the glint of his eyes Faramir caught out of the corners of his own.

Faramir's back arched, the fabric rucking under his hand, the folds sliding, catching, sliding again, fooling himself that the feel was that of familiar fingers that he had only ever felt on his face, his back, his shoulder.

Only once he had shuddered his way to completion did he sense the coarseness of the blankets, the stillness of the room, dim and dusky to his wearied sight. His own stale breaths stole away the last memories of musk, a steady stream of quiet tears the only seasoning to his sorrow.

Faramir pressed his cheek to pillows that once cradled the head of his beloved, muffled cries of passion soured by pain. His grief and guilt pinned him here, a moth caught in Ungoliant's web, each struggle ever weaker, twining the threads of lust ever tighter. Yet as it kept him tangled, so too did his desire ensnare his phantom brother, a distorted puppet in service to unnatural love. And it was in that, at the very last, that Faramir found his comfort.


End file.
